


Prince of Darkness

by Zach_Ricca



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen, Out of Character, Retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zach_Ricca/pseuds/Zach_Ricca
Summary: In Fire Emblem Fates, Kamui's (Corrin's) choice is a matter of life and death for several characters and has grand implications for the world at large. And yet, in each path of the original story, the tension feels lost at some point. Between filler chapters, contrivances, and limited agency and growth on Kamui's end, we lose out on the theme of the game.What do you think would change if Kamui simply acted... Nohrian? What if the story wasn't black and white? What if darker forces lurked in the shadows than anyone could prepare for? What if the mysterious dancer Azura really was more than meets the eye? And what untapped potential does a group of warriors from another world hold that could really "Awaken" this tale?If you hated Fates' story, this is a love-letter to your dreams for the game. If you loved the story (at times, I did, too), I hope you can come to love this as another perspective on the tale of Kamui. If you're intrigued and want to see what path this darker Kamui walks, please follow me in this journey and put feedback in the comments about possible directions the story could continue - I'm excited to see your thoughts.Special thanks to my bro Chris for many hours of help!





	1. A Dark Dawn

"Master Kamui, wake up. It's morning! Master Kamui? Flora, what should we do?"

For a few moments, silence.

Then, cold like a blizzard struck Kamui's face. His eyessnapped open, and the cold air hit them as well before he could raise his arm.

"Stop, Felicia, I'm awake!"

Trying to blink, Kamui noticed a piece of solid ice pinning his right eyelid back. His left eye bulged at the revelation.

"Oh no, I overdid it again! Stay right there, I'll draw some warm water."  
Felicia scrambled across the gray stone floor around the large bed frantically. Kamui sat up and turned to Flora, not groggy for cold but no less happy than if he were.

"What's so imperative that I must be woken by ice-magic?"

Flora raised an eyebrow, and her frosty blue hair settled to one side as she tilted her head. "Your training with High Prince Marx, Master. Did you forget?"

Kamui mouthed several swears as he remembered the date, the night before, his scrapped plans to sleep early. Flora nodded half-sympathetically, her hands folded politely over her pristine white half-apron and black dress.

"Tell him I'll be there momentarily. I need to get my armor!"

Kamui darted off, his bare feet closing the distance to a heavy wooden pull-door. As he yanked it inward, Felicia stumbled towards him. Lukewarm water drenched him, and Felicia dropped her pot in a panic, sending ceramic shards across the floor.

"Master Kamui, I'm sorry! I'll take care of it – I..."

With the bit of extra heat, Kamui found himself free to pull the ice off his eyelid. He took a deep breath to douse his anger... "Change of plans, Flora. Tell Marx that Felicia reminded me to wash before training. I suppose it's just as well – he's got the nose of a bloodhound."

***

It was a particularly dark dawn, even with the sun having risen in the hazy sky. So dark that the sparks flying from two intersecting blades cast light on their wielder's faces like fire. It was almost blinding, for the two were accustomed to the darkness. But as he was pushed back by the force of Marx's overhead swing, Kamui did not squint. Behind the visor of his Nohrian helmet, his golden eyes took in everything. The possible tells in Marx's stance, forward leaning; his glance, ever shifting; his placement, slightly towards the North side of the castle wall's wide top; his blade's flickering tip. Kamui held his own blade forward with two hands, angling it up towards his huge opponent's neck. Marx was his test, and Kamui knew of his father's impatience with failure. Amid the young prince's focus, Marx closed the few meter distance instantly.

A heavy swing from above and left. Kamui parried it up and to the side – but Marx spun and struck from the right. The training blade hit the armor over Kamui's ribs heavily, forcing him back.

"Stand your ground. A Nohrian prince must not retreat!"

Marx's blade came down as his dark eyes bored into his target. Kamui held his sword horizontal and braced with his left hand. The slash stopped short. Before he knew it Kamui flew back and slid across the bricks below. He put it together – he was kicked – and Marx was upon him. Marx's blade thrusted towards him. Kamui parried hard from the left, then let his blade fall. As Marx rotated his arm for a backhand slash, Kamui's feet pushed off. He drove his shoulder into the giant's abdomen. They tumbled down, and the blade limply tapped Kamui's back – not a decisive blow, even with sharpened blades. Kamui grabbed Marx's sword arm with both hands, pinning it firmly. Kamui's world shook as Marx's free fist punched him. Again. Again. The fifth blow set Kamui's ears ringing, and he could barely keep his grip on the deadly hand.

But the hundreds of hours of brutal training under Gunter flashed back to Kamui's mind. In moment of frenzied strength, he pulled Marx's sword free. He raised it overhead and thrusted down. The blade grinded to a halt. Inches from this head, Marx's blade stopped in his armored palm.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first part of my Fire Emblem Fates retelling! Please let me know what you thought. How to my renditions of the characters strike you so far? 
> 
> Additionally, what character shifts would you like to see? How could the story play out differently in this alternate universe? I will be trying to work in at least one reader suggestion per part, as this story could go a million ways and I would love it if it could be yours, as well as mine.
> 
> Thanks again for reading and I'll see you in a few days with the next part!


	2. The Royal Family

            Both princes breathed heavily. A thin grin crossed the crown prince's face. He tapped the ground with his free hand – a submission – and Kamui further broke the silence with a shuddering breath, slowly releasing his grip on the sword as he saw Marx’s control of it.

            “Brother,” Kamui protested, “I didn’t strike you.”

            “A sharpened blade of true Nohrian steel would have cut through the thin armor on my palm – at the very least, my hands would not be unscathed.”

            Kamui nodded slowly, understanding. He removed his helmet, glad for the open air. “Very well.”

            “You didn’t need to be so dramatic,” called Leon from the sidelines. “That is, beating Marx doesn’t have to be a suicide mission, if you just stop trying to be the best at holding a pointy stick like him. There are other ways to fight.”

            “Your collar’s backwards. Why don’t you attend to that?” Kamui spat.

            The youngest brother looked down to confirm this, then glared at Kamui before adjusting his collar in quick, exaggerated motions. Marx cleared his throat.

            “Kamui, where was your final attack aimed?”

            The middle prince pointed just above Marx’s head, and his brother nodded.

            “I wasn’t going to kill you,” Kamui clarified.

            “I could tell by the angle. You didn’t trust me to catch it?” the eldest asked, amused.

            “What if I caught you off-guard?”

            _No man in Hoshido or Nohr ever has. Still, they haven’t done other things I have._

            Marx nodded. “I appreciate your restraint. However, do not allow your stroke to fail when battle demands your strength,” Marx commanded.

            “Yes, brother.”

            “For now, we should go inside. You passed Father’s test – so, we must make preparations. You are to pack your things and depart the Northern Fortress.”

            The words almost whistled over Kamui’s head. The Northern Fortress - the drafty old castle where he’d lived with Felicia, Jakob, Gunter and Flora since he lost his memories as a child. It was all he knew.

            “Depart?! Where shall I go?”  
            “We’re throwing you out,” Leon teased. “No, you’ll join us and your sisters, Kamui. We’ll report to father.”

            “How soon? Will I ride with you this day?” A pang of guilt muted Kamui’s excitement. “Will I have a chance to properly bid farewell to the servants?”      

            “Don’t worry,” Marx replied, “as long as we leave before nightfall, we will make it to Windmire tonight with ease. You should take your time to pack thoroughly.”

            Thousands of small thoughts reached into Kamui’s mind as he lead his brothers back into the fortress and through a too-familiar maze of halls. _What will rare wildflowers smell like? How will a town square sound?_ _Do I play poker well enough to win at a casino? Did I play childish card games before I lost my memories? Will the sights and sounds of the outside bring these missing pieces back?_ Then, Kamui frowned at the selfishness of his thoughts. Must he leave on a day where Felicia’s botched her duties? He knew it would weigh on her. Then again, he couldn’t remember a day in weeks when the clumsy maid hadn’t broken a suit of armor while polishing it or set “lunch” on fire or accidentally attacked him with pottery or all of the above – all things considered, this morning had been tame. In the midst of a sad smile he decided a conversation would be better than thought.

            “Leon, what brings you to the drafty fortress this time?”

            “Isn’t it obvious? You had to hit him eventually. Marx is predictable once you fight him enough.”

            “You still didn’t have to come. Thank you, Leon. I shouldn’t have teased you about your collar.”

            Leon raised a single eyebrow, then caught himself smiling and shook his head. “You’re a funny person to be teased by, Kamui – you’re the clumsiest person I know. Today, your hair’s showing it.”

            Marx chuckled as Kamui ran fingers through his fluffy silver hair.

            “Better?” Kamui asked, having managed against all odds to take his hair from a mess to a train wreck.

            “Kamui, let me take care of it,” Marx said. Kamui nodded sheepishly.

            “You’re one to laugh, Marx,” Leon grinned. You almost left Castle Krakenburg without your armor.”

            Marx’s eye’s widened and Kamui and Leon shared a laugh.

            “Leon, I could have borrowed some here.”

            “It would have been a cold ride over. Or do your big muscles keep you warm?”

            “My muscles – ” Marx said before realizing he didn’t know how to end that sentence and joined in the laughter himself. The banter continued as Marx fixed Kamui’s hair, his armored fingers weaving through the strands like a comb. Kamui waited patiently, and Marx nodded slowly when he finished. Kamui thanked him, and they continued through the Northern Fortress’ drafty halls, talking of simple things.

            “Marx, if we’re all so tired in the morning, why train at this hour?”  
            The eldest sighed heavily and, in haste, answered, “because Father wills it,” more strictly than Kamui expected. The air went silent and cold, and moments later, he continued. “You’ve done well to earn this chance, but do not be careless.”

            Kamui nodded grimly. “Yes, brother.”

            After weaving through a maze of cold stone hallways, the group made it to the parlor. An almost eerily symmetric pyramidal fire burned (almost certainly Flora’s work) in a fireplace as high as Marx. Gunter, Felicia and the royal sisters, Camilla and Elise, were gathered on two excessively long leathers couches around a mahogany table and mugs of hot cider. Flora was tending the fire, and Kamui wondered where Jakob could be. Then, he quickly remembered how many drinks he had and how many hands of cards he lost to Jakob fewer hours ago than he would have liked to admit. Immediately, Camilla stood and rested her armored hands on the shorter brother’s shoulders with a calming grin.

            “Good morning! It’s good to see you.” Then, her expression became concerned. “Goodness, are you alright? Marx, his head looks like it’s going to bruise. What did you do?”

            The eldest looked at her sheepishly, and Camilla poked at bruise around Kamui’s temple.

            “I’m okay, Camilla, really – ”

            Elise skipped over cheerfully and as she raised the blue gemstone tip of her staff to Kamui’s head, a cool light washed over the wounds.

            “Don’t worry, Kami. I know Marx can be a little mean, but I’ll make you good as new.”

            The darker patches on Kamui’s skin immediately started to shrink, and Camilla stepped back to give the healer space.

            “Thank you, Elise. You’re a ray of sunshine as always.”

            “Forget that,” she replied. “How is life here? It’s been, like, a _whole month_. Did you get to read _Grey Waves_ yet?!”

            “I’m sorry, Elise, I honestly forgot.”

            Elise frowned. “I want to talk with someone about it, Kami, but I can’t spoil it for Camilla or Leon or Marx, and they’re all ‘too busy’, and so are the Arthur and Effie and...”  she stopped herself and looked down. “I mean, if you’re also too busy – ”

            “Of course not! I mean, I don’t know about now, but I’ll make time to read it.”

            “Yay!” Elise brightened up, her cheeks rosy and violet eyes twinkling. Leon rolled his eyes.

            “That reminds me,” Camilla asked. “How _did_ the sparring go?”

            Kamui smiled proudly. “We leave before dusk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Here I'm trying to build up more of a picture of the character relationships and Nohr as a jumping-off point for conflicts in the plot before things start moving quickly. The next part is coming quite soon (already written, but I want to force myself to release consistently >_<) so look forward to that :)
> 
> As always, I'd love your input. What do you think of the characters here? Could anyone be made more lively by certain changes/improvements in my writing?
> 
> Specifically this time I'd like to ask, what is your favorite FE Fates ship? Romance is not the main focus of this fanfic but I plan to write "Paralogue" Chapters for fun when I get burned out and since I don't have strict pairing plans for most of the cast, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Personally I love OdinxElise, but Elise is actually underage in this fic so maybe that doesn't happen T_T
> 
> Anyway, thanks again and I'll see you next time~


	3. Tales of Dia

            The room’s reaction was immediate. Elise hugged Kamui tightly around the waist. Camilla smiled warmly and congratulated him. Felicia congratulated Kamui and gave a small bow before walking to a desk in the corner – Kamui was wondering about it when he was called firmly by his mentor. Gunter’s wrinkles formed a sincere, close-lipped smile as he firmly offered Kamui some vodka, then whiskey, then scotch. Kamui’s headache politely declined for him, but he gladly took some cider between his chilly hands and took a seat next to Gunter with his brothers.

            “Thank you, Gunter. I could never have become strong without your guidance.”

            Gunter laid a paternal arm around Kamui’s shoulder.

            “You’ve done an old man proud, boy. We need more good Nohrian warriors in times like these. Have I ever told you about my run-in with pirates?”

            Taking Kamui’s momentary hesitation as a ‘no’, Gunter took a long sip of cider before starting.

            “We were a couple of nauts out of port when it happened. I’d been delayed in reaching Dia in southern Nohr after a bandit ambush in the Woods of Forlorn, and I had to get on the first ship I could. Do you know about the Rainbow Sage, Kamui?”

            “I haven’t neglected my studies, Gunter. He’s the most famous philosopher in the world.”

            “He’s more than just a philosopher.”

            By now, Camilla had dropped out of side conversations, and others soon followed, watching Gunter intently from all around. Gunter kept his eyes on Kamui and grinned.

            “Of course, most people are only interested in his philosophy,” Gunter conceded with a slight shrug. “When I got onto the first ship out of port, what I didn’t know is that all the passengers were willowy philosophy students. That would’ve been fine, if there was a single armed guard on board.”

            “How did the baron allow them to leave port like that?” Camilla asked.

            “Dia’s a strange town. They’re not supposed to bring in tobacco or opium, either. But if ships are coming in and out, paying docking fees, making money, and paying taxes, the barons don’t care to check them too carefully – granted, they tightened up a bit after this incident.”

            Kamui felt a tightening in his chest, but nodded.

            “As if turned out, the trip to Notre Sagesse went smoothly. People tend to keep to themselves on the island, but I found my way to the sage and completed my errand. Within the week, I was back at port for the return trip. But as it turned out, many more people boarded this time.” Gunter took a breath, looking around at universally intent expressions. All but one – Felicia was writing something at a desk far from the fireplace. He continued.

            “We’d just started to sail steadily. The Nohrian smog was weaker out here and the beams of sun shone on my face as I stood out on the deck, facing the sea ahead. But then there was a sound – something like rushing wind. Like an army of ants, ninja sprung up from the floorboards, from cabins, from over the side of the ship. Shuriken flew everywhere – and the students were in a panic. And you couldn’t blame them – the shinobi used a strange spell. They were almost completely invisible.”

            “So they were Hoshidan,” Leon scoffed. “They’ve used that spell in raids before – not that they’d ever own up to it.”  
            “What did you do?” Kamui asked.

            “Well, I didn’t have a proper spear or armor for miles but I had a small iron longsword at my hip and I was damn well going to use it. Swords aren’t good against shuriken – too thin to block anything, and too short to do anything at a range – but I had to try.”

            “Against one or two, maybe, but a whole team of invisible ninja?”

            “I was in a tight spot, sure. But while they had the weapon triangle and numbers on their side, I had just been awakened to my true potential by the Rainbow Sage. To me, it was like they were moving underwater – I saw their movements long before they were finished, even through their hazy tricks. The ninja who rushed at me dropped, one-by-one, and soon they were all after me. So I held the deck and told the philosophers to run below decks. When I blocked the stairs, the ninja tried to push through – but I held the line.”

            “Making a choke-point,” Leon said and nodded. “But that means you were a straight shot for their shuriken.

            Gunter scowled. “A plank worked just fine as an improvised shield, and I only had to hold out for a few minutes. The largest philosopher came back with a barrel of oil, and I told him to hurl it over my head at them.”

            “With oil? You can’t mean you set them on fire.”

            “Of course not. They were too hard to see. We ignited the whole deck.”

            Everyone’s eyes widened at least a little, save for Marx’s. But by his grin it was clear this story was old and dear to him.

            “And how did you escape?” Camilla asked.

            “We went below decks and took life-boats – trivial, really. It rained a short while later, so while the boat needed some repairs, it would sail again.”

            “But how did you think of that on the spot?” Kamui asked.

            “Listen, boy. You’ll be out on your own soon,” Gunter said. “These are dark times. Across Nohr and beyond, there will be challenges that you’re ‘not ready for’ waiting. But if even I could keep my head and handle them, I _know_ you can.” He jostled the prince’s shoulder. “So stay strong, and stay calm. I know you’ll find a life you can be proud of.”

            Kamui was taken aback– Gunter hadn’t been this gentle and sincere since he lost all his memories as a small child. It was all he could do to look back at his teacher with a sad smile. Marx cleared his throat.

            “I believe I haven’t been clear. While we need some staff to maintain the Northern Fortress, I believe it would be best to have some of you along to help Kamui adjust to life beyond the fortress.”

            Kamui’s heart skipped a beat. Felicia looked up from her parchment spreadsheet of the Fortress’ finances. She and Gunter both faced the crown prince silently. Flora took notice.

            “I can manage things back here with Jakob,” Flora said brightly. “We’re not much for relocating.”

            “A-are you sure, Flora?” Felicia asked. “I don’t want to leave everything to you.”

            Flora just grinned at her sister. “You’ve been talking about seeing Windmire for years, Felicia. We’ll be happy here – and you’ll have to tell me what it’s like.”

            “Without you? But-”

            “It won’t be a bunch of housework anymore. Be sure to keep Kamui safe, okay?”

            Understanding, Felicia nodded. She kicked her right boot back and caught the long dagger that flew out, alarming the entire royal family. All eyes darted to her, but she didn’t quite notice how it looked.

            “You can count on me. Kamui, I’ll make sure you’re safe wherever you go!”

            “I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Camilla echoed, grabbing a hatchet from her waist and raising it vigorously. Elise giggled as Gunter rose to join the excitement.

            “I’m honored for the chance to continue serving you, if you’ll have me. My lance-arm is yours.”

            “Thank you all. Gunter and Felicia, I’m grateful to have you along.” Kamui raised his glass. “I propose a toast – to safe travels and good health, in Windmire and beyond.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was at this moment that he knew... he'd fucked up.
> 
> Kamui noooooo don't wish for good things in fiction. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this tale of Gunter adventures. I promise we leave the gosh-darned Northern Fortress next chapter, which will be out shortly. This all was originally started as a class exercise, hence the emphasis on early exposition... unfortunately the next chapter suffers from that, but the NEXT next chapter is pretty exciting (I'm writing it now) so get excited :)))
> 
> Anyway, todays QOTD is: what's you unironic favorite moment in the vanilla fates story? Mine is... let's just say, "betrayyyyyyal" to avoid spoilers.


	4. Arrival

            “Have you packed extra armor?” Marx asked.

            “It’s in the wagon,” Kamui replied.

            “And three whetstones?”

            Kamui felt around for a moment, mouthing numbers, before nodding.

            “How about your combat manual?” Camilla jumped in.

            Nod.

            “Bread for the road?”

            Kamui confirmed almost immediately. “It’s already in the wagon. But we’ll only be on the road for a few hours.”

            Camilla waved off the protest.

            “Did you pack sheets of your favorite music?”

            Kamui sighed before continuing to answer his older sister and brother’s questions. He thought the group would only be in the stable for a moment to fetch the royals’ horses – it shouldn’t take long to mount. Marx and Leon hadn’t shed their plate armor, and Camilla wore similar ebon plates over her violet blouse and black cotton pants. Gunter had proudly donned the heavy grey-black plates of a great-knight, and a matching set sat near the room’s doorway for his horse. Everyone was suited up for the road. But Kamui was stuck on a bench before the rows of dark-wood horse stalls, pulling everything in creation out of his bag to demonstrate he’d packed sufficiently. Gunter and Felicia, with no authority to save him from his siblings, stood a polite distance away from the action. Meanwhile, Leon and Elise tried to suppress their boredom on another bench.  

            “Elise,” Leon said, “Two gold pieces say we won’t leave within a half-hour.”

            “I don’t gamble!” she said, her tongue in her cheek. “And if I _did_ , I wouldn’t take that bet.”

            Marx must have heard this, but he kept on.

            “Alright, Kamui, what is the weapon triangle?”

            “Marx, you needn’t test me,” Kamui said, agitated. “Lances and shuriken beat swords and magic, which in turn beat axes, bows, and –”

            “Who told you that swords beat bows?” Marx said, incredulous.

            “It’s in the ever-sacred _manual_ ,” Kamui spat back. “A Mercenary’s Guide to Duels and Battle, Grant Knox, 6th edition. Published in 3564 After the Dragons.”

            “You needn’t mock me,” Marx replied. “There are many statements in that book. Theory is theory, but when they start at any reasonable distance, an archer will have an arrow through a swordsman before he gets close.”

            “I’m with Kamui on this one,” Leon said. “You think we swordsmen can’t close the distance? We’re pretty fast, especially on horses.”

            “Archers can ride horses too. And Kinshi,” Marx retorted.

            “That’s conjecture, Marx. It’s in the manuals! Take magic, for example. It usually burns up arrows or deflects them while still hitting the mark.”

            “Don’t change the subject, Leon. I wasn’t arguing about magic.”  
            “I’ll argue about magic,” Camilla said, stepping closer to Leon. “Arrows hit wyverns hard enough to take Malig Knights out of the sky, and Hoshidan yumi are specifically enchanted to increase magic resistance. Aren’t you supposed to be a strategist?”

            “Yes, as a matter of fact. And if you fliers followed your strategist’s orders, you wouldn’t have your dragons shot out from under you.”

            “That’s not fair and you _know_ it,” Camilla said through her teeth.

            Marx cleared his throat. “I believe the essence of this discussion is that we should be cautious in battle, regardless of what our enemies wield.”

            Kamui nodded, still confused at the situation. “In that case, I’ll take care. Shall we go, then?”

            “Very well,” Marx ceded, and Camilla took the moment to quickly leave the room.

            The remaining three royals and their servants went off to various stalls in silence, and Kamui found his own horse, Domino, resting patiently in a stall towards the end of the stable. He took a moment to brush the black and white beast, check its horseshoes, and give it a carrot from his bag. Then, Kamui noticed Leon in the stall across from him. He brushed a pure black mustang in long strokes, neck to flank. At its side was a long train of panels of black steel armor matching Leon’s. As with his, golden trim ringed each layer of armor, and a golden skull adorned the beast’s head in an incredible show of prodigality and intimidation. The design was standard for Dark Knights, but the layers of armor looked especially thick, and the skull bulged out more than usual.

            “Leon, Ebony’s new armor looks beautiful. Was it from the same armorsmith?”

            “Ebony’s dead,” Leon replied flatly, continuing with slow brushstrokes. “This is Duke. And yes, same smith.”

            “That’s horrible,” Kamui said, trying not to think too hard about it as he gave Domino a few more gentle strokes with the brush. “How did it happen?”

            “You really don’t have any tact, do you?” Leon sighed, then looked down. “We were chasing after some ‘Adventurer’s Guild’ bastards after they’d ransacked a town near the Woods of Forlorn. I underestimated what an Adventurer could do with a **Hunter’s Bow** – one moment I was giving chase, the next I was thrown into the side of a tree. I looked back to find Ebony on the ground with an arrow in her head. Through the brain, through the plates…”

            “Gutter-crawling scum,” Kamui spat. “I don’t know what to say, Leon. It’s a wonder you were okay.”

            “Camilla was worse off,” he admitted, the sound of grinding iron following as he clenched his fist. “When I came to, a soldier told me that she had flown towards me immediately and chased the assassin off. But she followed him, and just as she got in range to launch **Ragnarok** , another Outlaw shot through Marziah’s wing – and she was still 15 meters in the air. It’s a miracle both of them lived.”

            “Then, the month that she wasn’t here – she was recovering.”

            “Not the whole month. But even the best troubadours couldn’t fix her right away after the fall and arrow-storm she took.”          

            “So, she hurt herself after saving your life.” Leon was silent. Kamui continued.

            “…And you mocked her for it.”

            Leon turned his head, glaring sideways at Kamui. “Don’t be so smug. You just blew up on Marx for making sure you don’t get yourself killed in battle.”

            Kamui attempted to communicate _that’s not the point_ as well as he could in a glare, and by Leon’s sigh it seemed something of the sort got across.

            “Look, I’ll talk to Camilla. But this conversation never happened.”

            “What conversation? We were just discussing the importance of sword training.”

            Leon scoffed as he kneeled down, picking up an abdominal segment of armor and starting to fit it to Duke. When Marx came out on horseback a few minutes later, Kamui immediately apologized for his shortness with the crown prince.

            “It’s nothing, little prince,” Marx said. “As long as you understand that I’m only looking out for your best interests.”

            When Elise, Felicia, and Gunter were ready, the group filed out into a huge courtyard, with various brick paths through a garden of red, white, and black roses. Camilla’s wyvern, Marziah, faced them from a few meters away, her wings resting on two separate beds of flowers, and several meters behind her was the wagon. Camilla nodded toward the road ahead impatiently.

            “Sister,” Leon almost shouted, then quieted himself. “I realize I was out of line before. But you need to be more careful when you’re dealing with archers.”

            Camilla looked thoughtful for a moment. “I won’t promise anything. If that archer could hurt you like that once, he could’ve done it again,” she asserted. “But you won’t have to worry about that one anymore,” she continued with a smug grin.

            Leon was left baffled as Marziah took off, blowing his ring of platinum blonde hair back with a storm of wind and petals. From just one glance at Camilla’s pride, it was evident to him that, even as she fell from the sky, she’d managed to launch a fatal blast of Ragnarok. Her tenacity was both inspiring and terrifying, and he pondered whether there was a way to convince her to act reasonably. _I doubt it_. Leon put this aside and followed at Marx’s tap, and the group was soon following Camilla’s path in the sky. She determined which road would be safest from above, and they followed her like the North Star.

            Kamui was enthralled within moments on the road. The countryside wasn’t brilliant – in Northern Nohr, scarce trees and bushes dotted the horizon between thin grasses. But to Kamui that was normal, and even the scent of grass after the night’s rain was brilliant. Despite the prince’s limited riding, Domino kept pace with the other horses with a remarkably gentle trot. Kamui couldn’t help but sneak the delightful beast a couple of sugar cubes, which Camilla had forced him to bring for tea.

            _Certainly, there must be extra sugar somewhere in the capital._

            Under Marx’s orders, the group arranged themselves at the cardinal points around the central wagon, manned by Felicia and Elise. Marx took the lead, with Leon watching the left, Gunter on the right, and Kamui at the rear. His main job was to survey the horizon behind them for anyone who might be following – this wasn’t a problem for him, aside from neck-cramping. Whether it was an occasional grove of live or withered trees, the bricks of old, ruined buildings, or simply dirt and dust, Kamui was glad to get one more look at what they’d passed. It gave him a sense of something previously lost to him – physical progress. All the while, their formation held firmly. It only dissolved as they came upon a rushing river.

            Immediately, Gunter started to talk about fording while Kamui dismounted, splashing his face vigorously. Elise and Felicia, and Marx followed, glad for something cool in the early evening’s thick humidity – Camilla landed for this very purpose, and Marziah even threw her long neck into the rushing water for a very loud drink. Camilla stroked the beast’s scales with a lazy smile. Meanwhile, Leon assured Gunter that fording wouldn’t be necessary.

            “There are Dragon Veins in the area,” he said, dismounting and closing his eyes, then facing himself a bit to the left and walking. He stopped several yards from the others, then stood facing the river and started a chant. Shortly, he reached the end.

            “…Dusk Dragon, lend me your strength.”

            A green orb-shaped glow formed in the curl of his right-hand’s fingers, and he released it towards the river. The moment it hit the ground, the 10-yard-across river was interrupted by a wide, raised bridge of risen earth. Dammed water started to trickle onto the plain’s grasses.

            “Quickly, everyone. Let’s cross.”

            They did as he instructed, leaving Kamui and his servants to gape at the achievement.

            “Don’t be too impressed,” Marx said. “It was a sluggish use of a Dragon Vein, and we can do _much_ more with the Dusk Dragon’s power.” When everyone had crossed the bridge, Marx muttered through the incantation in moments hurled the green orb aggressively. Light flashed from the orb as it demolished the bridge with force that almost pushed Kamui back. A moment later, the river flowed as before with no traces of the bridge. The soil merely looked a bit turned over. Leon grit his teeth, but Kamui’s eyes were too busy twinkling with wonder to notice.

            After the river, the group continued into a near-silent forest. The occasional hoots of owls and scurries in the thick underbrush made small counterpoints to the constant drumming of the horses’ trots. Still, it grew dull quickly, and Kamui noticed the start of riding aches that he wasn’t acclimated to in his inner thighs.

            He knew enough to realize that a boring ride was fortunate, though – it meant no hostile encounters. A small, sparse forest couldn’t sustain large wild creatures like wyverns, and by watching Camilla’s silhouette through the sparse canopy, the group could easily maneuver around the scattered Faceless, as well. As Kamui’s sweat was wicked away by a cool evening breeze, the group emerged from the tree line to see that cloud cover had thinned substantially. This left clear patches in the sky where stars glimmered diamonds. With this light and the cool breeze, he felt refreshed as the group rode a dirt road through the wide open plain, tossing up a cloud of dust in their wake.

            In time, the road curved up into a path between the foothills of the nearby mountains. A mile into this ascent, the sprawling walls of Windmire came into view through the light fog ahead. Kamui and Felicia were openly excited about how they towered over even the slopes surrounding the mountain road. This was a strong deterrent for would-be invaders, and a great comfort to any Nohrian. It was obviously unnecessary for Kamui to continue watching their backs, and with a light pull of the reins, Domino moved around the wagon towards a better view. A rush of wind told Kamui when Marziah landed on the opposite side.

            “You’re finally home, Kami,” Elise said, beaming from her seat next to Felicia. Kamui returned a tired smile.

            As they drew closer to the wall, its many stone turrets stood out against the now-clearer night sky. Still closer and a handful soldiers could be spotted in various grades of armor, with bows and tomes ready. As they came up to the steel grating of the portcullis, it started to rise into the surrounding stone wall. A short, dark-skinned man marched out to greet the group in a gray-steel armor with cobalt accents. He kneeled and greeted Marx.

            “Lord Marx, it’s good to see you’ve returned safely. What can we do for you?”

            “Hello, Bastion. I’d like you to send a couple of reliable horsemen to escort our wagon and horses to Castle Krakenburg. We’ll also need four wyvern riders to fly us in.”

            “Four? But Lady Camilla has her mount–”

            Marx smiled gentle to quiet Bastion, gesturing to Kamui at his side. “Prince Kamui now rides at our side. At last, the royal family is,” he hesitated. “More complete than ever.”

            “This is wonderful news. I’m pleased to meet you, Lord Kamui. My name is Bastion, I am proud to serve under Lord Marx.”

            “He’s one of the most reliable Paladins I know, so you can count on him, Kamui.”

            The middle prince nodded, forcing himself not to create an awkward situation for the kneeling knight by extending a handshake. He settled for a grin. “Marx usually doesn’t give praise so readily, Bastion. It’s a pleasure to meet such an esteemed knight.”

            “My lords flatter me. Shall I fetch your wyverns?”

            “Absolutely – thank you, Bastion,” Marx answered.

            The man rose and walked off towards the gate, issuing orders to others who subsequently shuffled around in the torchlight to make preparations. A group came out to usher the royals inside and take their horses off their hands. Kamui wasn’t keen on giving Domino someone he didn’t know, but Marx seemed to trust these knights, so he decided not to make a fuss.

            “For future reference, Kamui, Bastion doesn’t take praise well. Please be as polite as you can until you understand the city better.”

            “That was my intent,” Kamui said with a sigh. “But I’ll be more careful.”

            “Don’t stress about it, some people are just stiff,” Leon said. “Anyway, are you excited for the wyvern ride?”

            “I’d prefer to walk,” Kamui replied, “but I’ll make do. I’m sure it would create a lot of commotion to have the royal family parading through the streets.”

            “I could give out a ride instead,” Camilla offered. “Marziah rides very smoothly, especially without turbulence.”

            It wasn’t Marziah that Kamui was worried about. He vividly remembered several years ago when Camilla got too excited flying with him and flipped upside down without warning him. He’d almost fallen. 

            “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be alright. I should acquaint myself with the guards.”

            “If you say so,” she replied.

            As it happened, Kamui didn’t do a very good job of getting acquainted with guards. The man that picked him wore a nightmarish helmet. Angular eyeholes. Jagged ‘teeth’. Two ram horns on either side of the helmet as if they belonged to the wearer, as if the wearer was not human. But most of all, an intensity surrounded the man and his red-eyed wyvern which made Kamui catch his breath. He was a true Malig Knight – and while he wasn’t impolite, the man didn’t seem much for conversation. Of course, given his opinions on flying, conversation didn’t  interest Kamui much at the moment. As they took off, Kamui held the knight’s waist tightly against the rushing night wind and the fluttering in his stomach.

            Still, once they started flying smoothly at a stable height, he started minding the ride much less. From the sky he could see all of Windmire. Within the inner walls were two more concentric rings of incredible masonry, and the outer wall projected towards these central compartments in several places with protrusions like the spokes of a wheel. In the outermost section of the city which he first flew over, lantern lights glowed here and there like scattered flowers in a field below. As he looked ahead, the lights in the city became ever denser and brighter, in the likeness of a dense field of dandelions. Below him were the buildings-upon-buildings of a residential district, peaceful from this height in the moon’s soft glow. In the distance Kamui could see the rise and fall of mountainous slopes, and at each extreme of the far wall was an extension over the slope, like a raised bridge, for traders, watchmen, and emergency workers to come and go quickly. He knew these things from his textbooks. But even in the dark, seeing them was entirely different.

            Inside, the architecture seemed to slant inward towards the center, but the main point of interest was in fact slightly off-center. A volcanic glow emanated beyond a high circular wall embedded in the far end of the normal inner walls. _So that’s where father lives_ , Kamui thought, trying to remember against time the details of his face. As the wyvern below him flew over the near wall of the castle, the crimson radiance shocked him with its intensity. Now the descent began, and Kamui looked with fascination on the high stone spires rising from the infinite hole surrounding the central tower of the castle. He tightened his hold on the knight and tried not to think of what falling onto one of them might do to a person.

            The undead wyvern touched down on a circular landing pad, and as soon as Kamui dismounted, he hurried to the edge. To his surprise, he did not throw up, which was fortunate when he considered that vomiting onto something a mile below would be infinitely worse than making a landing pad momentarily dirty.

            Camilla was the next to land, and she talked about what an exhilarating ride she’d had with Marziah, confirming for Kamui that he’d made the right choice.

            Marx was next, and he wore a stern expression that immediately replaced Camilla’s easygoing smile with something neutral.

            “Are you ready to meet Father, Kamui?”

            “I’m ready,” he said without the uncertainty that he felt.

            “Good. Since we have a moment until the others arrive, we may as well rehearse. Tell me, Kamui, how will you address Father?”

***

            As he reached the foot of the reception hall’s stone stairs, Kamui lead the siblings in going down on one knee and bowing their heads. The man before him was flint faced, wearing ebon armor with gold adornments and a brilliant fur overcoat, with a black crown above it all. He stood alone amid a row of stone pillars and, in this well-built castle, there was no draft. This left the air unnaturally still, as if the King commanded it. Even the heavily armored guards on either side of the hall melded into the stillness as they stood amidst the stone statues lining the room, as if awaiting King Garon's absolute orders with bated breath. Kamui couldn’t blame them. In the presence of the Nohrian King, Kamui could hardly make himself more.

            “Father, it has been so long. Thank you for allowing me to come and meet you – I have eagerly awaited this day.”

            “Well met, Kamui,” Garon grumbled. “It is only thanks your diligence that you are here. I am told you have become a warrior almost on par with Marx – well done.”

            Kamui forced himself not to shake his head vigorously. “I have become strong, Father, that I may serve you well, if you will it.”

            Marx gripped his knee tightly, whispering a prayer of thanks to whatever gods would listen. _Just like that, Kamui,_ he thought.

            After a long moment of silent appraisal, the King nodded approvingly. “To be an instrument of Nohr’s power in the world, you must wield great might yourself. And some powers cannot be learned, only given. Rise.”

            Garon snapped his fingers and, just a foot in front of Kamui, a sword appeared. It was all the prince could do not to jump back. The blade hovered in front of him – a curved form, black like barely-solidified magma, veins of orange light still glowing. A deep purple miasma filled the air around it like billowing smoke. Kamui slowly seized the blade – immediately, he felt his heart racing, the hair on his neck standing, his arms tensing. He hadn’t felt this way since accidentally touching Marx’s Siegfried. He took a deep breath to contain his excitement.

            “This is Ganglari, a sword infused with magic from another world. While you wield this, no Hoshidan will be your rival.”

            “Thank you for this generous gift, Father. I will use it for Nohr’s glory.”

            “Bold words,” Garon said, a grin creeping onto his lips. “Let us be certain of that. Iago, bring out the prisoners.”

            “Yes, my liege!” a voice cackled. Kamui turned to face it and only looked upon the source for a moment before a pillar of azure radiance blinded him. Burned into his eyes were: wild black hair, a horned half-mask, so, so much gold, and the disgusting sort of smile that shows you the back of a man’s throat. When he opened his eyes, two disheveled soldiers replaced that image. On the left was a peach-skinned, green haired man wearing a strange vest and bladed arm-guards. On the right was a white-haired, dark-skinned woman with half a mask over her eyes and bright red furs around her. _Hoshidans_. Yet even as trained contempt rose in Kamui’s mind, unease followed as he saw the scabs and bruises covering their bodies. The Nohrian armor knights marched towards their king on either side and formed up between Kamui and his wide-eyed siblings as the prince took in the scene. A voice boomed from behind, breaking his reverie.

            “Iago will hold them still while you take your stance. Defeat these Hoshidans in combat and execute them.”

            A chill rushed into Kamui’s bones.

            “Execute… as in kill? Would they not serve us better as – ”

            “Kill them!”

            The voice thundered through the room, shaking the stone pillars. And Kamui did not hesitate. Walking forward, he took a neutral stance, holding Ganglari at his side. Iago’s magic released the captives, and as they sauntered forward, Kamui saw that they were armed. His eyes opened wide. He started thinking faster than he could move.

            He lunged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many danger. Such fight. Very Hoshido.
> 
> Wow.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading :D
> 
> *This is an edited version of Chapter 4. Many thanks to TriforceWisdom64 from fanfiction.net and XemblemX from reddit. The former had the idea for the year system "After the Dragons" which I find funny yet practical, the latter suggested some description in the castle scene that I am using almost verbatim because it's awesome. Both made very relevant edits. This version contains a lot more description, some of which is setting up future stuff and all of which is supposed to make Windmire a little more real.*
> 
> To anyone who's been around since the beginning (ie. a couple of weeks ago), sorry for the extended delay on this chapter. I ended up adding an entire middle section to this chapter that wasn't originally there, making the longest yet (and slightly longer than the next one, pre-revision). I hope you enjoy the little stories that are getting worked in - I'm really enjoying the chance to build up Nohr a little bit more (though I realize I still have a long way to go). 
> 
> Anyway, questions of the day! (week?)... First of all, what's your favorite Fates personal skill? Mine is probably Lily's Poise (Elise's personal), because stacked with demoiselle, the +5 defense trivializes some of early Conquest even on Lunatic if you turtle it properly, which I find hilarious. For another question, would you like to see Xander and Leo as names over Marx and Leon? I like the names pretty much equally, but a reader pointed out that it was confusing having Kamui and Leon in the same group in this fanfic, when we already have a Kamui and Leon in Fire Emblem Echoes. Let me know what you think, I wouldn't mind changing it. 
> 
> Thanks again and have a good week! The next release will likely take that long, but I think y'all will enjoy it :)


	5. Embrace the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The showdown between Kamui and the Hoshidans begins.

_Swordfighters have the advantage on opponents with axes and clubs. These weapons are unwieldy, but can still wreak havoc if they get connect even once. On the other hand, swords have a disadvantage against lances, knives, and shuriken. Their wielders are outranged without a great way to defend themselves. Deflection is an emergency option – your best bet is to evade them._

As he took his first irreversible step, the heft of Ganglari in Kamui’s hand called his mind to the gravity of his orders and to Marx’s reminder of the weapon triangle. He held to the latter as Ganglari spurred his mind and body to breakneck speed. The white-haired woman hefted an arm-length iron club – its rounded head looked painfully heavy. The green-haired man pulled a pair of four-point bladed discs from a pouch at his hip – _shuriken_. 

 _An oniand a ninja. That makes the oni my target – and her midsection is completely unguarded._ But Kamui only wore a light set of ebon armor himself – he knew he couldn’t survive a long exchange. The prince took another step, pushing right, towards the oni. The first shuriken flew. Kamui lunged left to evade – coming closer. The ninja panic-threw, and Kamui banked around towards the oni, putting her between him and the ninja. Her club came down – a two-handed swing. Kamui parried it to the side and swung horizontally. The oni lunged back. The ninja dove sideways. None were fast enough.

Ganglari sliced the surface of the oni’s stomach, and a wave of blood stained her white pants crimson. A shuriken stuck into Kamui’s thigh, and as he pulled it out, gritting his teeth, a burning sensation was already flowing up and down his leg. _Poison?! I’ll kill the coward._

By the time the ninja rolled to his feet, Kamui was upon him with a forehand diagonal stroke of Ganglari. A short wakizashi flashed from the ninja’s back to block. A rusting crack rippled through the small sword, and with a grinding sound the ninja was pushed back. Kamui pressed with a backhand slash. The ninja raised his blade to block. A screech and purple mist filled the room as silver fragments of wakizashi flew apart. Ganglari continued shallowly across the ninja’s shoulder and down his chest. A heavy step behind called Kamui’s attention. _Damn!_ Kamui turned on his heel. The club fell – he blocked with his left arm. A _crack_ rang out, but Kamui sunk into a stance and pushed the club aside with his limp arm before retreating to the side, a shuriken whistling past his ear. Kamui struggled to think straight through the throbbing pain as he faced both enemies.

 _Something’s wrong – injured soldiers should not be this strong. Even if they were at full strength –_ a voice broke Kamui’s reverie.

“You’re as strong as I would have thought, Kamui,” the ninja said, frowning.

Kamui leveled Ganglari, staring at the ninja with narrowed eyes. 

“How do you know my name?”

 _My existence should have been hidden all those years in the Northern Fortress. Did he overhear? No, he was warped here after the conversation! Father hasn’t used my name since._ He pondered that one of his siblings might have tried to cheer him on. If they had, it was beyond his senses, which were trained on everything within several sword-lengths. Still, even as caustic poison rushed to his heart, he had to hear the answer. _This little venom will not stop a prince_ , he thought.

“You were my charge, and I failed you. I would never forget your name.” The ninja fumbled with his pouches absently, then pulled a short knife for each hand. _He’s out of shuriken_.

“You fight well, Hoshidan filth, but you would do well to choose a believable lie. I have always been Nohrian.”

“I won’t argue with you – my service to you was a lifetime ago. I swore to Queen Mikoto that I would fight for Hoshido until my dying breath – and I shall.”

Something in the ninja’s words burned more than the poison, bringing the throbbing to Kamui’s head. _Why would the Hoshidan queen’s name bring me such dread?_

But the ninja took his stance, and Kamui’s pain wore through his patience. The oni was still bleeding from her stomach and had gotten paler, and the last shuriken throw was weak, and came from the ninja’s left – the shoulder injury might be enough. _I’ll finish these savages._

“Rinkah, now!” 

An aura of flame erupted around the oni and her weapon, burning Kamui’s face like a too-close bonfire. The heat closed her wound, and Rinkah gave a cocky grin as Kamui caught his breath. 

“Don’t underestimate the Flame Chieftain’s daughter, Nohrian scum!”

She wielded the club with rapid, heavy strokes, as if it were a willow branch. The prince parried each swing, but slowly lost ground to her superior strength.

“You’re strong, savage, but you’ve brought the wrong weapon!”

Kamui thrust Ganglari, but Rinkah knocked it away.

“Your tactics won’t make up for your pathetic strength and skill! The Blood of Fire has you outmatched!”

Rinkah swung down, and Kamui took a huge step back before noticing the wall behind him and circling around his opponent. Rinkah closed the distance in an instant. The club flew from his left. Kamui parried. Rinkah spun and attacked from his right. Kamui attacked from the left at the same time. The fiery blow exploded into his ribs and knocked him to the ground before his swing got much purchase – an awful trade. Reflex made him brace with his broken arm – a fresh wave of pain surged, but he flipped backwards onto his feet, parrying a follow-up swing. Then, he noticed the ninja, who’d crossed the long reception hall and was running at Garon.

“Clever maneuver, fire witch,” Kamui hissed. Rinkah grinned.

Adrenaline pounded through the ninja’s veins. In the center of his vision, behind the spears of a half dozen armor knights in a long row, behind the royal family, was Garon. A murderer, a thief, a destroyer of lives and threat to all nations. Today would bring his end. The ninja came within two spear-lengths of the knights before making his move. He hurled a knife over the knights, towards the King – an old man in black armor dove in front with his shield.  Teasing the edge of the knight’s range, the ninja banked for the wall, evading a couple of thrusts. He jumped towards the wall, running along it for two light steps before launching himself straight at the king. He readied his left arm as he soared, prepared to tear through the king’s neck with his arm-guard’s blade. Then, an incredible force gripped him like a giant’s hand. Garon had not flinched. Both looked to a small girl with long blonde pigtails. Her hands shook as she held a staff’s glowing azure tip at the ninja.

“Well done, Elise,” the king said, grinning lazily. You did what several royal guards could not.”

Kamui angled his blade forward and Rinkah advanced again, her club overhead. Kamui thrust into her shoulder. She endured the pain and swung down, Kamui sidestepped and swung from the outside. Rinkah whipped her club around to deflect. But she overswung, and Kamui stepped in and sliced her, cutting down across her ribs. He followed with a heavy kick and she fell. Kamui kept moving – he had to stop the ninja. But by the time he looked past Rinkah, all he saw was a body tumbling across the room towards him. There was nothing to take the credit but Garon’s extended hand in the center of his weakening vision. Still, the ninja rose to his knees and then staggered to his feet. Failure, relief, curiosity, and contempt clashed in Kamui, and he snickered.

“What is your name, ninja?”

“I am Suzukaze, loyal servant of the Hoshidan Queen.”

“Well met, Suzukaze. You’re a great warrior, and a great fool. You might have been clever enough to escape me for a moment, but no one can oppose the King.”

_And you won’t get the better of me again, either._

“The fates are cruel to make you call that criminal ‘king’, my lord Kamui,” Suzukaze said, his gesturing expansively. He slipped his tanto blade into its pouch – an underestimation of his opponent, Kamui thought.

“Why do you address me that way?” Kamui's poison-numbed fingers tightened around Ganglari’s grip. “And what do you charge my father with, coward?!”

“If you wish to know, you will not kill me, my lord. I would gladly remind you of everything – but you need to trust me.”

“Do not call me that! If you wish to follow me, you may finish yourself and save me the work.”

“I believe in you, Kamui. You will not turn on your family.” Suzukaze extended his hand, and for a moment Kamui saw a flash of a green-haired child doing the same.  The prince hesitated for a moment. _The poison must be bending my mind as well_. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

Then Kamui leveled Ganglari before lowering it a little – as much of a ready-stance as he could manage with broken ribs. Suzukaze flinched back, readying a tanto blade in his left hand.

“You’re right. I could never turn on my family. You will not approach my father again – this ends now.”

Grimacing, Suzukaze moved first. He stepped in, then back. Kamui swung at the bait. Suzukaze threw his tanto blade into Kamui’s chest, then swung with his bladed right arm. Kamui ducked the arm-guard’s blade and drove his elbow into the ninja’s solar-plexus, following with a horizontal swing. It cut the ninja’s midsection shallowly. From a back pocket – two shuriken flashed. Kamui parried them – and then didn’t see his opponent. Suzukaze was above, coming down with his bladed right. Kamui raised his broken arm and blood flowed out on them both. Suzukaze grabbed Kamui’s sword-arm and pressed the arm-blade arm down at the same time. Just then, the poison from the tanto kicked like a shot of pure alcohol, and Kamui’s stance sagged under the ninja’s strength. 

Many stimuli vied for his senses. Marx’s shouts. The tingling, cold-fire pain in his left arm, his ribs, his chest, his fingers, his head. Suzukaze’s gritted teeth, furrowed brow, the redness in his eyes. The fiery silhouette of a rising Rinkah in his blurring vision.  Then, he noticed a tingling sensation – a buzzing of his whole being – currently nested in the agony of poison. The strength of the Dusk Dragon. A nearby Dragon Vein.

“I am a child of midnight,” Kamui chanted. “I shall reject all lit paths, and will not be guided by the hand of another…”

Suzukaze’s eyes bulged. He raised his right arm to attack. Kamui swung his broken arm from the shoulder into a punch, screaming to steel himself for the impact. It hit the ninja’s cheek and he reeled back. A headbutt smashed the ninja’s nose. Suzukaze’s grip on the sword-arm slackened. Kamui’s eye flashed to a spinning object. He turned to Rinkah and swung his blade at the midair club. His numb fingers dropped Ganglari on-impact. 

“…On the dimly lit path of a warrior I will walk, and I will accept no help, for my power comes from you...”

Suzukaze swung. Kamui parried his hand and kicked his ribs and landed an uppercut before running. The two were upon him. He felt the fire on his back – meanwhile, he couldn’t feel his legs. In front of him was a vague, wavering green glow.

“ **Dusk Dragon, lend me your strength!** ”

The light coalesced in his hand, spinning like a windmill – no, like a tornado. It was heavy as iron, fluid as air, hot as fire through his armor. Kamui pivoted his stance around his front foot and the firelight and glint of blades in the Dragon Vein’s shine blinded him. He threw the orb straight down in front of them, reeling back from the force of it. 

Immediately a few stone floor tiles flew up and broke into pieces like autumn leaves, flying forwards and taking the others with them, sweeping the Hoshidans into a growing wave. The force surged forward into the far wall, leaving a pile of debris as high as Kamui could see and an array of cracks spreading like veins. Kamui’s body sagged, but did not fall. He turned to face the direction where the king ought to be (though he was too disoriented to be sure).                                 

“Father,” he said through heaving breaths.

“Say no more, my son. We will have to work through some flaws in your techniques – for now, though, you have earned some rest.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ^_^ this took forever and a day because I took forever to incorporate edits from my collaborators, sorry about that - but it's here! Writing this chapter stressed me out because it felt like a lot hinged on it, tonally, but thanks to TriforceWisdom64 from fanfiction.net and XemblemX from Reddit, I was able to find a direction I could be happy with. Now that that's done, I'm ready to move forward, hopefully at a more brisk pace. No promises on when the next chapter will be out, but I'm shooting to release in 2 weeks from now. 
> 
> Question of the day: what did you think of the Fire Emblem Three Houses Trailer? I thought the art style will take some getting used to, but the unit system looked awesome and I love the expanded exploration aspect. Also, I loved the trailer theme and hope it appears in other songs as a leitmotif, but that's just my taste - let me know what you think! 
> 
> If your need for spicy fanfiction is not yet satisfied, check out Triforce's Fates fanfic: A Song of Conquest and Fate (link below). The premise speaks for itself - male Corrin in Nohr, female Kamui in Hoshido, with their paths poised to cross in exciting and disastrous ways. It's an all-new adventure with awesome worldbuilding, more fleshed out characters, and really clever story beats. Personally, I read it as much for the fun banter as I do for the action because it's all really well-written.
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11923187/1/A-Song-of-Conquest-and-Fate
> 
> Well, that's all from me. Have a great day!


	6. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kamui, Leon and Marx have been reverted to their English names. This is partially for familiarity reasons, and partially because they've grown on me. Other than that nothing serious has changed.

            The royal dining hall that evening was quite a sight, but for a time, there was no sound but the clattering of utensils on plates. One end sat Felicia and Gunter on either side, wearing the same maid outfit and white tunic with a black overcoat, respectively. Across from Felicia also sat Elise, wearing a pink dress with slight ruffles and Leo, wearing a garb similar to Gunter’s but with golden trim. On her left were Camilla and Xander, wearing a strapless violet dress and formal full black suit, respectively. On the far side was King Garon, still in full armor and overcoat as if battle might break out any moment. And across the long mahogany table from the King was Corrin, in a body wooden cast, much like a cocoon. Only his face showed, but under his father’s absent gaze, he almost wished he was entirely covered. Felicia extended a soup spoon once more to the prince’s mouth, and he opened wordlessly, mortified by Garon’s grimace and Felicia’s sympathetic smile. Shockingly, only one spoonful of lentil soup stained the prince’s cast as evidence of Felicia’s clumsiness.

            The dinner was already going to be a little bit awkward because of the cast, but Garon felt that it ought to happen. Corrin had earned a proper dinner with his family. However, the news that no Hoshidan bodies were found in the pile of rubble – and that a hole was found in the floor tiles – complicated things. The royal family did not hear from their father after the report made the rounds, and he did not call them to his chambers – they almost assumed dinner was canceled and made their own plans. But they ultimately did show up – and so did he. As a result, the royals ate cautiously in silence as the King slowly contracted his hands into fists, then released them in erratic cycles. Halfway through the soup dish, Garon finally broke the silence.

            “Corrin, why would you to come to dinner wearing such an absurd brace?” When the prince hesitated a moment in his response, the King’s neck visibly tightened. “Do you intend to mock me? Or perhaps you wish to inflict guilt upon me for daring to challenge you? Have the years in that tower spoiled you, boy?”  
            Corrin felt a flash of hot fury pass over him at the last question. _Of course that cage didn’t spoil me_. It was gone in an instant, leaving a sinking feeling.

            “I apologize, Father. The doctors advised against removing the upper parts of the brace, since sudden movement could exacerbate my injuries. I’m fortunate they allowed me to remove the lower half, so I can sit. I did not wish to offend you.”

            The King’s glare relaxed slightly, and his frown looked almost genuine.

            “Healers are often more cautious than they should be, especially with royalty. Leo, remove that ridiculous headpiece now.”

            Leo nodded and pushed back from the table. “I’ll need retrieve Brynhildr to manipulate the wood safely. I’ll only be a moment.”

            The king sighed. “Sit down, Leo. Corrin, remain still.”

            Corrin felt a chill go through him as the King made a fist at his chest, then extended his arm with a greenish flash. The wooden cast around Corrin’s head and neck cracked off and flew back behind him with a slight breeze following. What remained looked like a wooden sweater around the rest of the prince’s body. Tentatively, he stretched his neck to either side – it was stiff, but not painful.

            “Thank you, father.”

            The King did not respond and dinner lapsed back into silence for the remainder of the soup dish. Felicia continued to serve the mortified Corrin, now with significantly less difficulty since he could move his neck to receive the spoonfuls. When everyone had finished, more or less, a pair of servants filed in to remove the dishes before the main course came out. After they left, the King cleared his throat loudly.

            “Corrin.”

            The prince straightened up in his seat. “Yes, Father?”

            “I trust you know the severity of your failure.”

Corrin grimaced. “Yes, Father. I know it is not sufficient, but I sincerely apologize for my failure. I will make amends. I –”

            The King held up his hand, then took a deep breath, relaxing the bulging veins on his neck.

            “In that fight, what caused you to fail?”        

            The question caught him off guard, but Corrin had been thinking of this very thing obsessively for the day he was trapped in a cast. He answered in the safest way possible, looking down at the table, his body tensed against the cast.

            “I was too weak, Father. I should have been strong enough to finish the both of them quickly – certainly, before one of them could approach you.”

            “You’re mistaken. Look at me when I speak to you.”

            Corrin raised his eyes to see his father’s face, every muscle taut in a grimace.

            “You exhibited the fruits of diligent physical training. And, as expected, the latent _plasma_ within you activated Ganglari’s Larceny enchantment – the ability to sap energy from weapons and foes – instantly. You didn’t sustain it, but I am certain you will with practice.”

            Corrin listened to the grim-voiced praise in utter confusion, but the experience wasn’t wholly unpleasant. Xander’s gripped fisted relaxed somewhat.

            “I ask you again – when you fought the ninja and the savage, what caused you to fail?”

            After that praise, the prince wasn’t sure how to respond. He gritted his teeth at the resumed pressured but answered honestly.

            “My form was poor once I was injured-”

            “Atrocious,” Garon agreed with a nod. Elise flinched back at how easily he agreed, but the King was calm and that put everyone a little more at ease. “You should drill your forms until your movements are crisp even at the brink of death.”

            After Garon had finished his corrections, the servants filed in with dinner – pork and mutton with roasted potatoes, broccoli, gravy, and cranberry sauce covered each plate. Garon made no move to eat, and after Felicia caught herself, neither did the others. 

            “Continue. Where else did you err in that battle?”

            “My initial approach was too direct. I should have gauged Suzuka- I mean, the ninja’s dexterity better before attacking.”

            “Not quite,” Garon shook his head. “Leo, how is your brother mistaken?”

            The prince cleared his throat. “You see, Corrin, you weren’t wrong to approach quickly. Hoshidan shinobi have been trained for centuries to outmaneuver Nohrian knights. On top of it, the Saizo clan has been under the Hoshidan throne’s thumb for generations. As such, they work closely with the Royal Onmyouji Order, so their clothing carries odd enchantments, rendering magic less effective, and their shuriken sap your strength on contact. On top of that, and their reflexes are quick enough to evade most physical attacks. Their shuriken are dipped in an ancient toxin… do you see what I’m getting at?”

            “They’re ludicrously resourceful,” Corrin mused. “They need to be defeated immediately.”

            “Exactly. Give a well-trained ninja breathing room, and he will wreak havoc on your army.” The tone of Leo’s voice suggested he was speaking from experience.

            “If that’s the case,” Corrin posed to the table, “what would have been a better way to approach?”

            “You’re forgetting something fundamental to your heritage,” Garon pressed.

            After musing for a moment, Corrin locked onto the King’s meaning.

            “The Dragon Vein – I should have used it sooner.”

            The King and Xander both nodded, and the latter flashed a sympathetic grin.

            “It couldn’t be helped since it was your first time using one,” Xander said evenly, “but in general you want to use Dragon Veins before your enemy can gain an advantage.”

            The King nodded. “Using the Dusk Dragon’s might, Nohrian royalty can create a situation that will favor us – no matter what.”

            The three royals before him seemed single-minded on the issue. _I have to bridge that gap._

            “Meaning, I should have attacked with the Dragon Vein right away.”

            “Gods, no,” Garon said sternly. “Suppose you missed, or the attack wasn’t enough. What would you do then? In that fight, you were fortunate that your opponents were already weakened and desperate, but offensive Dragon Vein usage is an exception, never the rule. Elise?”

            “W-well,” the girl started, “sending the energy into the ground to make a healing area is never a bad idea.”

            “That’s true,” Leo said, “but it’d be a little bit of a waste at the start of a battle.”

            Xander shook his head.

            “Nonsense. A healing area would be an excellent bait – many enemies will overextend if they feel the need to secure an objective – and the extra strength from one can be useful, as well. Though personally, I would try to separate the enemies by making a high wall between them.”

            “Well, they were both grounded fighters,” Camilla mused. “In that case, it would be easiest to compromise the floor below and pounce on them when they fell into the trap.”

            “With a ninja around? Someone as crafty as Corrin’s opponent wouldn’t fall for a cheap flyer’s trick like that.”

            Camilla glared at Leo in what became the beginning of a mildly heated discussion on the best use of Dragon Veins.

            “Would it be possible to use more than technique?” Corrin interjected. The siblings, locked in conversation with each other, suddenly turned to their brother, confused. He continued.

            “A trapped healing area could punish the enemy for trying to gain advantage, and wall with floor damage at the edges could sink an opponent trying to rejoin their ally.”

            Gunter and Garon met eyes, each bearing a thin smile.

            “It could work,” Leo admitted, “but usually the Dusk Dragon’s power – plasma – is limited in any area. On top of that, it could be difficult to use it for two purposes at once.”

            “So long there is sufficient plasma, it should not be an issue,” Garon remarked. “After all, each of you can use Dragon Veins now. With five users, a two-pronged attack would be trivial.”

            Xander’s eyebrows raised. Elise and Camilla smiled at Corrin, and even Leo gave him a wry grin.

            _He’s telling us to work together? Then, I’m being counted… among them?_

“I regret that I’ve allowed myself to reach this pitiful state, but what should I attend to in the meanwhile, father?”

            Garon thought for a moment. “While you recover, you will become more acquainted with Windmire and Nohrian principles before you formal introduction. You wouldn’t remember,” Garon started, “but because of your condition, you’ve never been introduced to the populace as your siblings have. It’s time to change that.”

            Corrin felt pride rise up inside him. “I look forward to it, father.” Everyone smiled a bit at the dissipated tension, and the meal went on with casual conversation taking over. There was the ongoing issue of resources looming in Garen and Xander’s minds in particular, but that was a problem for later.

***

            Under the shining rays of morning sun, the sound of sandals slapping stone echoed past me as I ran. My lip twitched as it drew closer despite my quick leaps up the rocky path.

            “Leave me alone!” I shouted.

            “Stop being a baby!”

            “I’m not being a baby,” I shrieked breathlessly, finally reaching the top of the rocky path and looking out over the steep drop to my left. I staggered back from it as my follower reached me, then finally faced him. Across from me was a boy with mint-green hair in loose clothing, not even panting from his climb. His arms were crossed, and eyes glaring.

            “Yes you are. Ryoma… I mean, the High Prince – he’s training you. Only a baby runs away from training.”

            “It’s only ever training with him – and I’m not even good with that damn bow! He just likes to watch me fail. I bet even little Takumi will be better than me.”

“You know your brother’s not like that,” he said sternly, standing straight to make his greater height more obvious.

“Yes he is! I hate him, and I hate Cheve! I want to go _home_ ,” I said, voice shaking on the last word.

            “Well, you’re _not_ home, so you can’t just run off like this. You’ll get lost or worse, ‘Lord Corrin’. Start acting like a prince for a change,” the boy said, grimacing. He moved towards me with fast, silent steps, grabbing my hand.

            “Let me go!” I yelled, feeling a deep burning within my eyes. I pulled my arm sharply to the side, and my hand did come free – but not before it sent the boy over the cliff. Annoyance in his eyes turned to terror as they widened.

Lunging out, I gasped his hand with mine and dropped like a brick, hitting the edge of the cliff with my arm. As my prone body throbbed with pain and my small arm lost strength, his eyes looked at mine despairingly.

            Then, I grit my teeth and pulled, and as I did, that same fire ignited somewhere behind my eyes and a disjointed pull hoisted the boy over the edge. For a long moment, we were panting and shivering on the ground.

“My lord,” the boy said, without a trace of sarcasm.

The tears welled up again. Wasting no time, I forced myself to my feet, facing away from him, trying to ignore the pain.

            “I’m not a baby. I’m just tired of being so lonely.”

            The sound of sandals approached, more slowly this time, and a man’s serene voice reached me.

            “It’s okay, my lord Corrin. Let’s go back now. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

            I turned. And reached out my hand.

            A purple blade thrust through the man’s chest, and as he keeled over, wide-eyed with horror, the world went black. Everything else faded away – into laughter. I realized my the anxious vibration in my chest that it was my own.

***

            Cold sweat shed readily from Corrin’s body, which had shot upright a moment before. _It’s okay – he’s alive_ , was his first though. Anger at his traitorous thoughts was the second thing in his mind. It took three full seconds before he sincerely felt that anger – but in the end, he did.

            _It’s because I didn’t finish the job that I can’t rest,_ he assured himself through nausea enough to double him over. _Next time I see him, I won’t make the same mistake._

           

           

           

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took way longer than it should have. I'm realizing that a certain redditor was correct - my goal of rewriting the whole route is a little ambitious because I'm simply not invested enough in the world to handle every single detail for what will be novel-length at the pace I'm going. 
> 
> I do think I'll continue with this story, as I do have some scenes that I really want to write. It will probably just be a little more spaced out, not dealing with every detail of the journey. If things go as planned, it'll mean more action but less build up and sooner releases. I do have to remember that this is a hobby and do what I enjoy, but I also hope to keep the quality high so that it can be enjoyable for others as well so please continue to provide any feedback you have as well as general tips moving forward!
> 
> This release is pretty tame but I added the memory scene on a whim and it might not be strictly good, but I personally like it a lot. Let me know what you think!
> 
> As for the question of the day... what fighters do you think they still might announce for Smash Ultimate?
> 
> Thanks for reading and I'll see you next time ^_^


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